My stomach ailments, causes unknown, seem to have cleared completely and so, as I was preparing for a trip to Kleifleds, decided to bring along some maple syrup and enjoy an order of blueberry pancakes…with just a dab of melted butter, of course.
Cecilia joined me, but only in time to see me inhaling the last couple of bites. In keeping with my ‘moderation’ commitment, I’d only ordered two pancakes…each one roughly the size of my head. We discussed my romantic life – her favorite topic as she continues the pursuit of the ultimate woman for me – amongst other things.
“I’m telling you there is no one out there who can deal with my unique personality,” I told her. “They all want weird stuff…like flushing toilets, temperatures in the house above sixty, a bigger residence than your average MSR 3-person tent, and someone who’s serious now and again…which we ALL know is WAY over-rated,” I said.
“Maybe you could tweak a couple of things?” she said with a smile, understanding that once again I wasn’t being serious.
I looked up at the clock and realized it was much later than I’d thought. I had plans to attend a unique church service, one in which medians were present and offered congregants the opportunity to received messages from loved ones who had passed. I have lived my life as a Christian man, growing up Catholic with all the idiosyncrasies that can imply, operated as an Episcopalian since my marriage, but always considered myself open-minded about things I can’t possibly comprehend. This was surely one of them.
I listened closely to the medians as several different ones delivered messages to individual congregants. Whether they were communicating with loved ones from ‘the other side’ or not is not for me to say or about which I am qualified to speculate. The mysteries of the hereafter are for those who have made their way there and not those of us still amongst the living. I know this much…they brought tears of joy and comfort to those receiving the messages and asked nothing in return. I can find no fault in that exchange.
I spent the afternoon doing the home care things that needed to be done…why must houses get dirty? After spending an hour spinning my way to a sweaty mess on the trainer, I showered and headed to pick up Heidi, who needed a ride from Cleveland to Akron. I’d rescheduled family dinner to the following night so I could do this and alerted family members that it would be all about the leftovers I didn’t want to see headed to the garbage.
I did shoot off an email to my foot doc saying I thought it was time we searched for the right combination to alleviate my heel pain. ‘It’s been 18 months and I’m getting closer to retirement and the walking of some major trails’ I’d written to remind him I was pretty sure I couldn’t do it on one good foot. If nothing else happens in 2016, figuring that out would make it a good year.
Bike duration: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 135 bpm.
Calories Burned: 750.
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